Never Bow Out Of What You Begin
by TipsyTippi
Summary: "The world has been thrown into uncertainty. The Oracle is now a captive of Niflheim, there is no heir to the Lucian throne, and the demons are growing stronger. Though it all seems rather small in comparison to the struggles of growing up, of learning about friendship, love, destiny, and ruling a kingdom. Princess Noctia has a lot to learn about the world and herself."
1. Rebellion

"The decreed hour is come."

The words echoed around the room, the hard marble acoustically amplifying the words, the sound embracing them from all sides. Noctia stood before the throne, visibly more relaxed than the three retainers standing behind her. Though the others weren't accustomed to having impromptu audiences with the King, she felt more relaxed. Her father's royal affectation commanded respect and Noctia was very careful to fulfill her role and keep her royal visage in place; but it was always difficult to separate the King from 'father' in her head. "Set forth with my blessing, Noctia, Princess of Lucis."

Noctia bowed. It wasn't in keeping with etiquette for a 'lady' to bow, and she could almost feel the disapproval from Ignis behind her, but she was never one to keep with tradition, preferring to bow like the women in the Kingsglaive than curtsy like any of the nobility that frequented the halls. If the King was at all disapproving of the display, he didn't show it, and she displayed herself as confidently as always. "Thank you, Your Majesty," she said.

There was a small pause, not long enough to be notable by anyone else in the room, but when Noctia met her father's gaze his eyes tightened. "Take your leave, and go in the grace of the gods," he said.

Noctia hated protocols and traditions, especially when it dictated how she spoke with her father. Being a royal audience was ever only tolerated by her, and she more often than not, to the annoyance of the retainers and nobility around her, refused to go through many of the motions, presentation, or titles. Some said that it bordered on disrespectful to the throne, but the King never had a word against it, so those few never pushed the issue.

Today was one of those times like the many before it, where Noctia simply nodded her acknowledgement. "Right," she said under her breath, turning hurriedly out of the room. Her three retainers, confused by the ungraceful exit, quickly bowed before following.

"Well, you know what they say about princesses," Prompto said, lightening the mood once they exited the throne room.

"Something about being spoiled and haughty?" Gladio said.

Noctia groaned entering the large elevator, "More like something about sleepy and not having the time for all the formal farewells."

"Yeah, there's a word for that," said Gladio, "it's called being lazy."

Noctia ignored him and watched the numbers slowly tick down as the elevator dropped. The doors opened with the gentle ding of the bell and Noctia exited, heading straight for the doors. The four of them relaxed now that they were out of the imposing atmosphere of the throne room; they were swinging their arms and tilting their heads up to meet the sun as they headed down the stone steps.

"Huh, I'm almost disappointed there's not a royal parade to celebrate kicking you out for six whole months," Prompto said and Noctia lightly elbowed him.

"So much for royal protocol," Ignis said.

"Your Highness!" a voice carried down the stairs and halted the four of them in their tracks, turning with wide eyes towards the King as he struggled down the first few steps with Drautos's help. As imposing as he had been on the throne, King Regis seemed much weaker like this. More human maybe, as he delicately made his way forward.

"What now?" muttered Noctia, but the note of concern was clear in her voice as she met the King halfway.

Regis set a hand on her shoulder for support. His eyes were tight like they had been when their eyes had met inside the Citadel, projecting fatherly worry as he gazed at Noctia. "I fear I have left too much unsaid," said Regis, and the firm hand on her shoulder tightened, "You place a great burden on those who would bear with you."

"Your one to talk," Noctia said.

Regis dropped his hand and turned towards her entourage, standing uncertainly behind their charge. "I ask not that you guide my wayward daughter, merely that you stand at her side," he said, his demeanor was less serious, the aging man speaking in a tone that was more beseeching than commanding. It must have seemed out of place with their image of the King as the three of them hesitated. Ignis, as always, was the first to react, polite and formal, as always.

"Indeed, Your Grace."

"We'll see the princess to Altissia if it's the last thing we see."

"Yeah, what he said."

Regis eyed them carefully, a knowing light in his eyes. His expression turned more severe, and again he had all of the appearance of a wise and powerful king. His hand gripped hard at his cane. "I expect nothing less," he said, "recognize that as protectors of the line of Lucis that you also take on a great burden. Do not forget that consequences will follow you, as well."

The air grew tense and Noctia could see the nervous flitting of Prompto's eyes and the stiffening of Gladio's shoulders as their discomfort grew. Ignis's eyes met hers. "Hate to break this up," Noctia said, her voice a bit forced, "but Cor's got the motor running."

Gladio and Prompto eagerly took the cue and headed down the steps toward the Regalia where it sat idling at the bottom. Ignis hesitated for a moment, and when it looked like he was preparing to speak Noctia gave the slightest shake of her head. He turned and followed the others. Noctia lingered behind as the others moved out of earshot, and she turned towards her father, doing her best to project confidence.

Regis's gaze was warm as their eyes met and Noctia, for once in the past several months, she was glad to see her father rather than her king in front of her. It had been immeasurably difficult coping with her future becoming a bargaining chip with the empire. Regis had known it, but it had been his duty being placed over his role as a father that had led him to arrange the conditions in the treaty. Noctia understood, reasonably Regis was King first, responsible for a nation; Noctia knew that her life belonged to her people. It hadn't been easy for either of them. Still, she couldn't help her heart rebelling against her father. She expected protection and love in ways that he was unable to commit as King of Lucis.

She'd been unable to accept it. And that rebellion had carried consequences that she was prepared to receive. She supposed she didn't make a very good Caelum, and her father's disappointment was a deep-seated fear that had troubled her the past few weeks as she heatedly debated him in his acceptance of a political marriage. The one thing that she valued just as much as making her father proud was her freedom and autonomy. And she'd had to make a difficult choice.

She never could make things easier for her father, since childhood she'd always been a source of worry, whether it be her health, her rebellious nature, or her emotional withdrawal, Regis had always fretted over his only daughter for one reason or another. But now, after weeks of argument, secrets, and eventually grudging acceptance, they could part today on equal, contented terms. Noctia was happy that before leaving on her journey she could share this moment with him.

"Another thing," Regis said, "Do mind your manners around the dignitaries in Altissia. Look grateful and prepare to meet with Lady Lunafreya. I'm sure she will be just as anxious to see you again."

His tone was so fatherly, so like her dad when she was little when he was giving her a warning against bad behavior, that she couldn't help but smile. "Your Majesty, as well," she said, "Try to mind yours around our esteemed guests from Niflheim."

Regis didn't smile at that. His face seemed to grow graver as he eyed her. "You have no cause for concern," he said.

"If you're sure."

"I'm anticipating disagreement, but I'm sure conditions will be agreed to and met all the same. I only ask that you take heed. Once you set forth, you cannot turn back."

Noctia's face grew more solemn. She understood. One way or another, everything would be coming to a head soon. She just hoped that it ended with peace, and that the collapse of a potentially world-changing treaty didn't rest on her shoulders. Regardless, she couldn't imagine taking any other path. She'd prepared for this moment, she'd taken everything in stride with the support of her closest friends, and she was more than ready to face what lie ahead. "You think I would?" she said.

"I need only know that you are ready to leave home behind."

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

"Take care on the long road," and Regis's voice grew more strained, every syllable enunciated, as though he was trying to encrypt a message to her in every word. More than likely, he was. "Wheresoever you should go, the line of Lucis goes with you." Regis placed a gentle, firm hand on her shoulder, his eyes full of emotion as he addressed her, and his voice carried the weight of an empire, of royalty, and of a father.

"Walk tall, my child."

* * *

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but I must formally resign from my position," Molly said. She bowed low, trying her best to seem gracious and regretful, but Regis could tell from the tone of her voice the frustration she was trying to tamper. Honestly, he had no right to complain as his own frustration was bubbling under his regal composure. Molly was their eighth tutor, and to her credit she had lasted the longest, but he was sick and tired of hiring new tutors.

"Very well. Your services are no longer needed for the day. I am grateful for your efforts," Regis said. He needed to have a talk with his daughter. Again. And he was tired of having the same conversation with her, as well. He had to physically fight the urge to not roll his eyes.

Molly bowed once again and Regis dismissed her. As soon as she was out the door he was immediately to his feet and marching out of the throne room towards the elevators. Clarus stood near the doors to the hall and followed him into the elevator, barely keeping the smile off of his face. "Bad day?" he asked, and he could barely contain the amusement in his voice.

"Don't say a word," Regis said.

A few floors down the two men stepped from the elevator and walked briskly down the hall towards the Princess's room. The doors were shut and standing outside in the hallway as though the king and shield were expected stood Ignis. The poor boy looked as exasperated as Regis felt and seemed to grow visibly nervous as the king approached.

Ignis gave a quick bow, "Your Majesty, I apologize for what happened to Molly. I hope she isn't too upset."

"She's resigned. Though, I'd appreciate if you could tell me exactly what happened," said Regis.

"She didn't tell you?"

Regis looked at him, irritation clear on his face and Ignis gulped.

"The Princess refused to finish her etiquette lessons. Molly become quite upset. Then Her Highness, er, locked herself and the cutlery set in her bedroom, saying something to the effect of Molly looking… more like a garula than a governess. She hasn't come out since Molly left. Uh, Your Majesty."

Regis huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. When was all of this rebellion nonsense going to settle down? He desperately wished that his daughter would behave as expected of her for just a day and give him a little piece of mind. He patted Ignis on the shoulder. The boy was tall for his age, not as tall as Clarus's boy, but combined with his cultured mannerisms he certainly seemed mature for his age. Today, however, he seemed to sense Regis's frustration and was dreading the king's reaction to his daughter's antics.

"Take a break, my boy, I'll handle my daughter," Regis said tiredly.

Ignis nodded and stepped aside to give Regis access to the room. He made no move to leave, however, standing next to Clarus who put an arm around the boy's shoulders. "Don't worry, Ignis. Even the king can't control that girl's spirit." Ignis nodded distractedly, his attention focused on the closed doors as the king knocked with a clenched fist. _Worried about her still,_ Regis thought to himself, appreciating the loyalty and friendly concern that Ignis held for his daughter. Regis believed he'd done well in choosing Noctia's confidant, he'd become a caring friend and caretaker to her. Ignis must be rightly expecting her to get the punishment of her young life. Regis was considering it.

"Noctia Lucis Caelum," Regis said, her name punctuated by another hard knock on her door, "open this door."

The hallway turned deathly silent, the three listening for movement on the other side of the doors. They heard none.

"Noct, if you don't open this door for me on the count of three, I will tell Ignis to go down to the kitchens and order the cooks that you will receive vegetables for meals and no desert for a month. I am far beyond games."

Despite his sour mood and his efforts to keep a serious composure, he inwardly chuckled at the sound of small footsteps rushing to the door and the sound of the lock clicking open.

Regis looked to Clarus and Ignis, "You two are dismissed for now. I need to have a word with my daughter."

The two retainers bowed before turning down the hallway; Ignis threw a final glance in the direction of Noctia's room before following the shield around a corner.

Regis slowly stepped into the room and closed the doors behind him. When he turned to face the bedroom he saw Noctia, hugging her legs on her bed, her head turned away and facing the wall rather than her father. She wasn't wearing the dress that had been embroidered for her specifically for her etiquette lessons, instead wearing one of her ratty T-shirts and pair of shorts. She looked miserable, and his heart hurt at seeing his child look like that, no matter the circumstances.

Regis huffed, a pained sound before sitting himself on the bed next to his daughter. She didn't move as he ran his fingers through her hair. He kept his voice soft, "Noct, what did you do?"

She shrugged, but otherwise remained silent, gaze intensely focused on the wall.

Regis rubbed a comforting, fatherly hand on her back. It wasn't very difficult to mitigate his anger. He had a very hard time staying angry with his daughter on a normal day, and particularly so when she seemed withdrawn and unhappy.

He sighed and his voice turned stern, "Ignis says you were being... disrespectful to Molly. Want to tell me what happened, Noct?"

There was a hesitation, and Noct slowly turned her head towards her father, though she didn't lift it from the shelter of her knees. Her eyes were only visible through her choppy bangs and her gaze had turned from her focus on the wall to the duvet. Regis waited patiently. Noct didn't need much prodding, just patience. His hand continually ran over her back.

"She said I wasn't a good lady," Noctia muttered into her knees and Regis had to strain to hear. Thankfully, he was by now skilled in pouting child enough to understand.

"And did that hurt your feelings?" Regis asked.

"No."

"So why did you lock yourself in your room and insult Molly?"

Noctia shrugged again and Regis bent down to peer into her eyes. Regis expected from her body language to perhaps see puffy, red eyes or maybe tears; but her eyes were dry, a mixture of fiery and exasperated. Her lips were pursed into a thin line and her brows drawn together in clear discontent. "So what is all this about then?" Regis asked.

"I'm not a lady," Noctia said.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to be a lady. Molly said I wasn't a lady, and I said 'then I don't want to be.' She got mad at me said I needed to be one or I wasn't a good princess. She said... I wouldn't make you proud. That's when I got mad."

Regis sighed again, "Noct, I will never not be proud of you. Do you hear me? You make me proud every day, even days where you make me want to tear my hair out." Regis pulled Noctia into his arms who tried her best to keep her serious, angry composure but fell apart into laughter as her father proceeded to tickle her sides. She shoved at his hands, but couldn't fight against the onslaught of tickles as she flailed and wailed in helpless giggles.

Regis couldn't help laughing himself as a smile grudgingly graced Noctia's face. When he finally allowed her a moment to breathe he hugged her to his chest and placed a kiss on her forehead. "I know you don't like your lessons, Noct," he said, "but they're important. You understand that you're a princess. These are lessons every princess needs to learn. Even if you were a boy you'd need to learn your manners. Is it really so awful that you need to insult your tutors?"

Noctia sat up straight and looked her father in the eye. Noctia had always been a hardheaded child, even a bit too cocky for her own good. It was one of the reasons Regis adored her; but her stubbornness was going to kill him one day. "I want to learn how to fight. With a sword," she said.

Regis blinked. He hadn't expected that. It was very difficult to keep the exasperation out of his voice, "Noct, you don't need to learn how to fight."

"Iggy takes fighting lessons," she said, staring pointedly.

"Iggy," said Regis, "will be responsible for protecting you one day. They're basic sparring lessons, Noct, he doesn't use a sword-"

"He uses knives."

"Noct, that's not the point. He needed to focus on the same etiquette lessons as you do before learning to spar. It will be part of his role one day that he needs to learn all of these skills. Right now your role is to exercise your brain and do well in school and with your tutors."

Noctia's features turned excited, focusing wide eyes on her father, "If I do well in school then I start my lessons?"

Regis audibly sighed, more than a little confused and concerned. "Why do you want to learn how to fight, Noct?"

"Because everyone says I'm bad at being a lady, Dad. I don't care about those lessons. No one cares about dinners and dresses. I want to be like the heroes in the books that Iggy reads to me. Like the old kings. Like you!" Noctia gripped at her father's coat, eyes shining. She seemed so small like this, incredibly fragile, though Regis knew better than to think that she was anything but. He felt a sadness creeping up inside of him. He knew her destiny, the fate that awaited her in the not-so-distant future. And seeing his daughter here on his lap, foolhardily begging to be allowed to learn to fight; it seemed too much like she was running headlong into that future without any knowledge of what to expect.

 _But its a pipe dream, isn't it? To hope that you can raise her like a normal little girl. You've known for a while that you're leaving her defenseless. You've no right to limit her based on your own fears regarding her destiny._ Regis wrapped his arms around Noctia. For a long while he didn't say anything, merely clutched his daughter to him, his brows drawn. He felt older and more weary, wishing so very much that he could offer fairy tale endings and assure that there was nothing to fear from the demons that crawled the world. But he was starting to get the idea that the child on his lap wasn't afraid of monsters under the bed, just angry at the thought of having no way to fight back against them. _Don't lecture her on being a princess if you can't live up to your duties to her, as King and as a father. Don't let the world down. Don't let her down._

"You will work hard at school. You will do your homework when Ignis and I tell you to do it. And you will _eat your vegetables._ You will not touch any blades until I say you are ready," Regis said in his most stern dad voice. Noctia nodded her head quickly, eyes bright and an even brighter smile shining on her face. "You will listen to your instructor. No more tutors, but you're going to continue your lessons. Through Ignis this time. You are getting off easy today; I hear word that you are being difficult or disrespectful, you _will_ be punished. Is that understood?" Regis kept his gaze firm.

"I promise, dad. I swear. I'll be good. I'll _do_ good," Noctia said.

"I know you will," Regis's said, "and you are going to apologize to Molly. With honesty."

Noctia ducked her eyes and to her credit looked a little guilty at the mention of Molly. The two of them were quiet for a long moment before Regis whispered a secret into her ear, "But you know what?"

"What?"

"She does look a little like a garula."

Noctia laughed and she hugged her father. Regis inwardly groaned at how goddamn soft he was when it came to her. And almost as an afterthought, "But you know you're grounded, young lad-, uh, Noct. No video games until I see a sincere apology letter to Molly. And in return, you'll start your lessons next week. Deal?"

"Deal," said Noctia

As Regis left Noctia's bedroom, closing the doors behind him, he caught sight of Clarus leaning against the opposite wall. He smiled at Regis's tired expression. He knew it well, raising two kids of his own. The 'tired dad' look. "So, what is she in for this time, huh? No video games? No deserts?"

"Games," said Regis and he turned to walk down the hallway, Clarus at his side, "though that's not all."

"How's that now?"

"There's going to be some changes. The tutors aren't working, so she's going to focus on school. And your boy is going to start training her."

Clarus gave a hearty chuckle before seeing that Regis wasn't laughing with him, his eyes stony and Clarus realized it wasn't a joke. He choked on the laugh in his throat, "Huh?"

Regis stopped in the hallway and Clarus didn't miss how he threw a quick glance along the hall to assure they were alone. He fixed Clarus with a severe look and Clarus got the hint that he wasn't speaking to his friend, but his King.

"She needs to learn," said Regis, "whether I fully approve or not. Gladiolus will start to train her. And he's not to go easy on her. I want her skilled, able, and holding her own by the time she... When her training is finished. And if we're lucky maybe the training will knock some discipline into that girl. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," said Clarus, and gave a slight bow of his head.

Regis's features softened and he ran a hand over his face, "and be sure to let Ignis know that Noctia is be getting extra vegetables for the next week."

* * *

Gladiolus paced around the training room twirling his wooden practice sword, already dressed in his gear and unnecessarily inspecting the sparring weapons on the wall. As prepared as he felt he was, and there was natural bravado and confidence that helped his slight anxiety, he still felt a little unsure as to how he was going to start. Last week his father had come home, stating that after school from Monday on out he was to be training the princess. He had been shocked. He accepted the role, because it was expected of him and because it would make his father proud, and now here he was. Waiting for the girl.

He visited the Citadel several times, to visit his father or more recently to do training drills with the princess's other retainer, Ignis. They didn't know each other terribly well, yet, but they had enough commonality that they were beginning to become friends when they had the opportunity to see each other. He supposed they would have the opportunity more often now that he was going to be frequenting the Citadel. To train a girl. One who had a reputation for being lazy and stubborn. He was sure it would be a joy.

The doors behind him opened and he turned to see his father walking through them, followed closely by a small boy wearing a T-shirt and cargo shorts underneath his small, fitted sparring gear. "Dad," Gladio greeted his father, and he nodded to the boy who just stared back at him. Well, the kid was a brat, but not his problem. "I didn't know you'd be here today, too. Are you training the runt while I train the princess then?" he asked.

Clarus barked a laugh and his shoulders shook, the boy at his side pinched up his face in apparent offense, eyes slitting as he glared at Gladio. "No," said Clarus, "I'm not training anyone. I've got office work today. Don't worry, I'm sure you can handle it."

"So, what? I'm training two? I thought you said I was only training the princess. I didn't know you'd have me training more than one kid."

Clarus clapped his son on the back, "Oh, you're training only one, all right. Gladio, this is Her Highness, Princess Noctia. Your Highness, this is my son, Gladiolus. Your new teacher." Clarus's amused smile was plastered on his face.

Gladio choked and sputtered, gaping at the boy. No, the girl in front of him, a blush coloring her cheeks as she met his eyes. What a great start. He hastily bowed and muttered an apology, and he was sure a blush of his own was coloring his cheeks.

"This is Noct, son. No titles in here, you're the teacher," Clarus said. He placed a hand on Noctia's shoulder, "Noct, Gladio's going to be your teacher. And when you're older, your royal Shield. Don't worry, he knows what he's doing. Go grab a practice sword. Runt." Clarus pointed to the wall and Noctia walked away with her face bright red and fiery eyes glaring at the Shield.

Clarus then threw his arm around Gladio's shoulders. "You'll have the training room to yourselves when you're training with her," he said, "Remember, don't go easy on her just because she's a girl. King's command. And also remember this is as much your training as hers. Learn how she moves and fights, as she gets better your job will be to support her as much as guard her. You'll need to memorize her weaknesses and compensate for them. You're going to be her Shield one day, so take this as your introduction into Citadel life. That's all it is in a nutshell, anyway. Just start with the basics." Clarus clapped him on the back again before heading back towards the doors.

"Thanks for the rundown, Dad," Gladio said, sarcasm dripping from his voice before the doors shut again.

Gladio exhaled heavily before turning to face Noctia. She stood off to the side near the weapons rack, holding the wooden sword in front of her with two hands. He moved to the center of the room before gesturing for her to stand in front of him. She walked over and met him squarely in the middle of the floor. "So," said Gladio, "Noct."

Noctia hesitated before nodding.

"I'm Gladio. It's nice to finally meet you. We'll be meeting here every day once you're done with school for ninety minutes. Being late isn't allowed, skipping isn't allowed. So, uh... Do you have any questions?"

Noctia shook her head.

"All right. Guess more rules will come to me as I go," he muttered somewhat self-deprecatingly. Fighting he could do. Teaching? He'd learn on the fly, he supposed. He squared himself, "Well then, let's start with your stance. Stand straight. Don't lock your knees. Keep your shoulders back. Swap your hands and don't hold the grip so tight." Gladio moved behind her and moved her hands, showing her how to grip the sword. He nudged her shoulders until they were relaxed and in proper position, he tapped her heals with his foot signaling her to spread her feet more. Once he molded her into the proper stance he gave her an encouraging smile. "You got it," he said, "today I'm going to show you basics. Stepping, guarding, being aware of your feet. All right, princess?"

He'd meant the nickname sarcastically, not meaning to use a title, but Noctia's face scrunched in distaste all the same. "Don't call me that," she said.

"What, Princess?"

Noctia nodded.

"Just Noct then?" he asked.

"Yeah. Uh, that's what I like to be called."

"Your friends call you that, huh?"

Noctia dropped her gaze and looked hard at the floor. Her stance faltered a little and she was chewing her lip. "My dad, and people in the Citadel call me Noct. And Ignis," she offered as a response.

Gladio could read between the lines, "Well, guess I'm glad I get to call you Noct, too." And for the first time Noctia offered him the ghost of a smile, hesitant and hopeful. He grinned back. "Okay," he said, "follow my lead."

* * *

Thanks for reading! This is mostly meant to be fluff, but that may change in the future. Rating is for later chapters as there will be future smut. Comments are appreciated!


	2. A New Friend

The overhead lights buzzed as the room was filled with stark, blinding light. The room was sterile, plastic curtains framing the doorways which looked out into seeming blackness in comparison to the brightness in the room. Placed around the room were a series of computers and medical equipment along with a row of five tiny maternity-ward cribs lined in the middle of the room. Soft cooing sounds could be heard from each along with the steady beeps of the monitors.

The curtain parted and a tall man, wily burgundy hair seeming to turn almost pink in the stark lighting, walked casually into the room, an air of cool menace about him. Behind him followed a doctor, short with graying hair that nervously twiddled his fingers and glanced over his shoulder as he followed. The space was heavy with the smell of antiseptic and sugar, a combination that made the stomach of the doctor lurch when they entered the room.

"Mr. Izunia," said the doctor, "we don't have much time here. If the computer logs my key card as being here longer than a few minutes, it will raise suspicion." The doctor wiped nervously at his brow.

"Don't worry. There is no need for us to stay long," Izunia said, coming to stand over the cribs. The infants lying inside all had their eyes closed, lids fluttering in restless sleep. Tubing was connected to their mouths, wires to their temples. Each of their right wrists were bandaged, blood staining white gauze from freshly tattooed skin. The machines beeped and whirred with every tiny movement the babes made. On the end of each crib hung a clipboard with statistic sheets and health reports. Izunia strolled languidly down the row before stopping at the fourth, picking up the clipboard and briefly glancing at the sheets. "Ah, this is the one."

The doctor glanced around Izunia at the sheets. Numbers and charts covered the front page, and at the bottom in large red ink was written, 'Defective. Risk of heart failure. High risk of weak muscle generation.' The doctor glanced from the paper to Izunia's face, then back again. "All right," he said, "it will take a moment to print its readings and-"

"Oh no, doctor, this is what we're after," and Izunia reached into the crib, gently removing the tubing, a long hollow cord easing its way out from the infant's throat, before removing the cords around its head. He lifted the unconscious babe into his arms as the doctor sputtered and lifted his hands in attempt to stop him.

"Mr. Izunia!" he stammered, "You can't! That's Niflheim property, we'd never be able to leave the grounds with it!"

Izunia turned bored eyes to the doctor. "We? You're mistaken. Did you not hear? Lucians made their way into the laboratory, they made off with a subject. They killed a defenseless doctor in order to do it, I might add."

The doctor stared in dumb confusion with his jaw hanging open, only aware too late as Izunia's arm shot forward to bury a small blade into the man's chest. Blood choked out from the man's lips and he fell to his knees. He gasped for a few moments before dropping face-first onto the cold, white tiling and going still.

Izunia turned and strolled from the room, humming to himself. He turned his gaze down to the infant in his arms. "You're the first step," he crooned to the babe, "you've a bigger part to play, my dear boy."

* * *

Prompto walked down the school hallway, the camera in his hand flashing through the various pictures of small animals and city-scapes he had taken the day before. His pace was slow, distracted, and his face was touched by a small smile as he viewed the photo of the small puppy he'd seen in the park. He hadn't quite figured out the white balance on it, photography only having become a recent interest and the settings still threw him at times, but the photo had been taken in the early evening when the park had been washed in orange light and the image almost seemed to have been taken with a stylized filter. His eye seemed to be developing more every day in spotting candid shots as he walked to and from school.

Even at the leisurely pace with which he walked, he sensed the small crowd that had gathered in the hall ahead of him. He looked up at the sound of excited chattering, noticing the ring of kids circled around someone in the center. A girl, black hair cropped short, her back facing Prompto. Unlike the other girls in school who often came to class in skirts and dresses, wearing bright colors and pigtails, this girl was wearing a black shirt and equally black pants. Her look in general was tom-boyish, and to anyone in the school who may have been living under a rock and didn't recognize the crown princess, she could have been mistaken for a boy.

"Princess Noctia, how many servants do you have?" "A hundred?" "No wait, more than that, right?" "A thousand?" The questions sounded eager and gossipy, and for all the interest the girl in the middle was paying them they seemed a little too familiar. The girl looked bored, eyes hardly focusing on any one person in front of her and rather than bothering with a response, turned and began to walk the opposite direction of the group. "Bathroom," she said, throwing the excuse behind her as she purposely walked down the hall. Prompto watched her walk past, trying not to stare, nervously clutching his camera as the princess of Lucis casually strode by not more than a few feet from him. The ring of kids chatted excitedly while Prompto noticed the girl walking right past the restrooms and out of the building into the courtyard.

Prompto huffed and looked down to his feet. Even though the princess seemed to show little interest in making friends, Prompto recognized the look of loneliness that often seemed to shine through on the princess's face, because he had often felt the same. Part of him genuinely wished he could talk to her, he knew a thing or two about loneliness, but it was probably a different sort of isolation she felt; and to be honest, he found her intimidating. After all, as he often told himself, he was the bottom of the barrel of potential friends the crown princess Noctia could possibly find.

* * *

The princess was on Prompto's mind over the next few days. It wasn't a secret around the school that the princess didn't talk to many people since returning from Tenebrae. In fact, she was often silent, speaking only when called on in class. At the end of the school day she could be seen being picked up by her retainers, but she didn't seem very chatty with them either. Her mannerisms were different from Prompto's in that she didn't avoid gazes or hunch in on herself, she never seemed particularly shy. She just seemed uninterested in the people around her, or more than likely the conversations that the other kids in the school always tried to initiate with her. It must get tiring to always be asked about what the Citadel was like on the inside, or how many cars her family owned, and all the other ceaseless questions that seemed to be thrown her way.

Prompto glanced around, camera waiting on hand, he was prepared to take a shot of the next thing that caught his interest on today's walk home from school. He'd often had begun to wonder with every shot he took whether it was a picture the princess would admire, daydreaming a little of having enough courage to introduce himself to her. Maybe she would recognize that he wasn't the kind of person who wanted to question her about what being royalty was like, but instead ask her if she also liked taking pictures, or going to the park, or watching the late-night horror movies on TV that were rated R that he should most certainly not be watching, but his parents weren't home enough to ever catch him.

He suddenly pulled from his thoughts when he heard a little whimper off to the side. A small puppy was limping in front of his neighbor's driveway, a small wound on its hind leg. It paused every few steps to lick at the blood coating its light fur before attempting to walk forward again, whimpering all the while. Prompto was immediately on his knees, lifting the tiny creature into his lap. "Don't worry, I've got you," he said. He fished out a clean handkerchief he kept in his backpack before gently tying it around the little dog's injured leg. "There! All better," he said, proud to be of help. But the puppy only studied it for a moment before plopping itself on the spot, seemingly still unable to properly walk and finally too tuckered to continue to try.

Prompto studied the dog for a moment. His parents told him before that they couldn't have pets. With him at school during the day and his parents either working late or travelling most of the week there wasn't much time to dedicate to an animal. He knew immediately that it would be a struggle to convince his parents to keep the little dog in the house, but if he showed that he rescued the poor thing, that he couldn't just leave it on the street, they would have to be understanding. Maybe they would relax the no pets rule until he was able to find the little guy's family and return him. No matter what his parents thought, to Prompto, leaving the little dog was not an option. "Ya hungry?" he asked.

* * *

The next day after rushing home from school to his new, adorable little friend, Prompto showered before preparing a little bath for the dog. "What to name you," he wondered aloud, "Tiny... Snowball..." The puppy made a little appreciate sound that may very well have been from the gentle pressure of warm water from the shower head, but Prompto took it as an affirmation. "Tiny?" he asked the little puppy, "Too plain. But you are pretty small."

He rubbed some of his mother's expensive, concentrated shampoo into the dog's fur, he was sure his mother wouldn't mind, and it would make the dog's fur smelling fresh and clean. "You know, you have a little wristband like mine," he said to the dog, flashing the jogging wristband he kept around his right wrist in front of the dog's nose. "I wear one too, see? On the same hand." The puppy studied the band and sniffed it once before looking up towards him. The dog's eyes seemed knowing and it cocked its head to the side as it stared at Prompto. Prompto smiled, pleased to have the dog's attention. He could pretend the little thing understood, that he had a friend to talk to.

"I have a tattoo, too," he said. He huffed a breath before starting to rinse the soap out of Tiny's fur. "My mom says it's a bad thing. That my dad and her didn't give it to me, that some bad men did. She says I can't show it to anyone. I don't need to wear it at home, though," he paused, petting the puppy's head for a moment, "I wear it anyway. My mom said it was ugly once, so I don't think she likes to see it. It is ugly, I guess." He shrugged, and the dog's wide eyes were focused on his face as he studied his wrist. If Prompto wasn't lost in his thoughts he might have noticed that the dog's ears were twitching as it listened to Prompto's words and its eyes were a little more intense than a dog would typically pay to a human.

Prompto sighed and when he looked up again he was smiling at Tiny. "Well, you're all clean! You ready for bed?" Tiny only responded by shaking out her fur and splattering little droplets of water in every direction. "Hey, stop that!" yelped Prompto.

* * *

The next few days were horribly distressing for Prompto. After waking up in the middle of the night to find Tiny missing and spending all the next day looking for the little dog, Prompto was really put out. He'd lost his little friend before he'd even had the chance to make flyers and return Tiny to her family. He felt as though he'd failed the poor thing, and he was worried that she had gotten hurt again somewhere out on the streets. He closed in on himself more than usual, walking to and from school without his camera, hoping instead to spot lightly colored fur around a corner. He eventually had to accept that Tiny was long gone.

One day after reaching home and checking the mail Prompto was surprised to see a letter addressed to him. He excitedly brought it into the house and immediately sat to open it. As an elementary school kid, he rarely got mail addressed to him and he felt the giddiness that all children felt at the idea that someone would bother to send them anything through the mail. He opened the envelope and immediately noticed the pleasant, tangy smell of berries on the paper. 'A girl,' he thought, and he eagerly began to read the words printed in elegant, feminine script.

'Dear Prompto,

'I hope this letter reaches you in good health. My name is Lunafreya Nox Fleuret. I believe you are the one who found my dog, Pryna. My heart was heavy with the thought of losing her. But we were happily reunited, thanks to you. You have my gratitude.

'I had sent Pryna to see Princess Noctia. You're friends with Noctia, aren't you? I heard she's usually too busy to play with her schoolmates, so I suppose you don't get to see her very often. Regardless, I hope you can continue to be a good friend to her.

'She has a strong character and a good heart, and I know it's hard to make friends as royalty. But I can tell that you are a good person. Pryna is a good judge of character and she has been sleeping with your kerchief. Hopefully, one day, we can meet I will be able to thank you in person. I wish you well.

'Thank you,

'Lunafreya Nox Fleuret'

"Me?" Prompto said, "and Princess Noctia? Friends? Does that mean she wants me to talk to her? This girl Luna... Lunafreya is counting on me... Me!" For the first time in days, Prompto felt happy. If Luna felt he would be a good friend to Princess Noctia, then he could trust her judgement even if he was too nervous to trust his own.

* * *

Prompto peaked around the corner of the back of the school building. It wasn't necessarily a secret that the princess preferred to spend lunch and recess alone, with a school full of people who made it their business to know her every move she was always noticeably absent. Where she went, however, was secret except to maybe the teachers who allowed her to escape to her own space. But today, Prompto made it a point to follow the princess back towards her preferred hiding spot, being invisible for once being of help.

So here he was, spying around the corner, trying to tell himself that following a girl behind the school wasn't that creepy. He had mixed emotions about approaching her. It had been on his mind all night and he had to more than once read Lunafreya's letter this morning to bolster his courage. First, talking to a new person, taking the initiative, was scary. Prompto wasn't that confident in making friends. He hardly had any of his own on account of how painfully shy he was. Second, she was a princess. She was royalty. She probably had more interesting people to talk to, better and more important things to be doing than talking to him. The image of the princess walking away from the crowds of kids that sprung up around her at regular intervals, expression bored and voice monotone, was replaying in his mind. What if she had the same reaction here in response to him?

And third, she was a _girl_. Prompto hardly had the courage to talk to other boys his age, and other than group activities in class he'd never had the confidence to say anything to a girl before. The idea of talking to one now was terrifying. Not to mention this girl was a literal princess. But Princess Noctia didn't look like something out of a storybook. She never dressed girly, her hair was cut short, even the way she walked didn't seem particularly feminine. In a way, Prompto was grateful. He supposed it made her, in this moment, a little more approachable.

Prompto glanced at the camera in his hand, his grip tightening. The screen showed a picture of Pryna from the night he had first brought her home. He knew now that the princess knew Pryna, and he hoped that it would be a good ice breaker. "I can do this," he said to himself. But he gulped all the same and taking a deep breath stepped out from behind the corner.

"H-hello, princess," he said.

Princess Noctia looked over towards him, her face showing a mask of annoyance at very apparently being followed behind the school before shifting to surprise when recognition dawned in her eyes at the sight of him. Prompto moved to approach her. _Act cool,_ he thought, _show her the picture._ He smiled, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "Would you- Ahh!" Prompto tripped, tried to right himself, before falling forward onto the ground. _Smooth, Prom._

He heard a gasp from ahead of him and footsteps rushing to his side. "Are you all right?" he heard her say. For once the princess's voice wasn't so flat, it was filtered with concern.

Prompto's eyes flashed to his camera, the only thing keeping him from dying of the red-hot embarrassment that was threatening to bubble up inside of him was the concern he felt for his beloved camera. "Yes, it looks fine," he said. Relief cooled the flush that was threatening his cheeks at his less than graceful attempt at an introduction. When Prompto glanced up he stopped breathing. The princess stood in front of him, her face kindly concerned, not at all a trace of laughter or mocking in her features. She held out her hand to him and for a moment he was confused. His embarrassment and the fall left him flustered. He blinked at her hand. _Ah! The picture!_ "Oh! Uh, here you go!" he said, extending the camera out to her, the picture of Pryna still lighting up the screen.

The princess looked at him. "Not that," she said.

"Huh? Sorry," said Prompto.

The princess extended her hand again, and this time Prompto got the message. He accepted her outstretched hand, but when the princess tried to help lift him up she found she couldn't. She strained as she tried to hoist him to his feet. "You're heavy," she said.

Hurt and shame flushed Prompto's cheeks as he was finally hoisted up. He stared at the princess, dumbfounded and at a loss for what to say before the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period. The princess glanced up, before turning to run to class. "Well, see ya," she said.

Prompto didn't watch her go as she ran back to the front of the building. His eyes grew hot and prickly and he worried his lip. That could not have gone any worse. He'd made a fool of himself. In front of the princess of Lucis. In front of a girl. He'd looked like an idiot in front of the one person he really didn't want to look dumb in front of. And worse, though unintentional, one of his biggest insecurities had been the one thing that she'd probably remember about him from then on. "Heavy," he said to himself, "I knew it... There's no way we could..."

Prompto looked down at his camera, at the picture of Pryna drinking from a bowl of milk on his kitchen floor. He clicked through the next few photos until he found the picture he'd taken this morning of Lunafreya's letter. Looking at it had strengthened his resolve, and when he'd been working up the courage to follow Princess Noctia behind the school he'd looked at it again to hold onto that resolve.

Lunafreya was counting on him. Even if he didn't believe in himself, she believed in him. Tiny believed in him. Luna had said so. "No," he said, "we will be friends." A new kind of determination flowed through him. He wanted this more than anything else. More than he'd wanted Tiny, more than he wanted his parents to be home early for once, more than he wanted any other friend. He had someone counting on him. And more importantly, thinking of the kindness he'd seen in the princess's eyes when she'd offered her hand, he _wanted_ her friendship. And if some changes had to be made, it was for the better anyway.

* * *

Change took some hard work, it didn't happen overnight. No matter how much Prompto knew it he couldn't help the fact that he really wished it were that simple.

The first few weeks were hard. Learning how to set up a routine, how to adjust his diet, even how to overcome his shyness. It all came in steps, and it all took time.

His body needed adjustment to the runs he now devoted himself to, five days a week. Gradually cutting back the calories and fast food he loved so much and eventually incorporating salads and fruits before switching entirely to home-cooked, healthy meals had been a challenge, especially since his body seemed to crave the fatty foods long after he'd purged them from his diet. He'd forced himself little by little to talk to his classmates, to strangers, and he gradually began to feel comfortable in the sunnier disposition he tried so hard to mold himself into. Fake it till you make it, perhaps. Regardless, progress was slow, but when he saw it, it was all the more encouragement towards his goal.

Prompto hadn't seen Noctia around in a while, except for TV programs he supposed. After elementary school had ended Prompto learned that the princess would be attending a different middle school than him. They were close enough, but Prompto was still determined to push towards his goals of self-improvement before seeking out the princess again. Their part of the city only had one high school, so he knew for sure that until the end of middle school he still had time, and he still took his pictures and kept up the routines. Then, he could be a different person, and make a better impression.

He held on to Lady Lunafreya's letter, to those pictures of Pryna, and he kept a collage of the progress photos he took once a month since that day back in elementary school. All of them drove him to do better, to be better. To be the person he wished he'd been as a kid and to be the person who, in his mind, was more deserving of the princess's friendship. Realistically, he didn't know when he would be 'finished' with his self-improvement. So rather than obsessing over whether now was the time or not, he set a date for himself. The first day of high school. He'd work his ass off until then, but that would be the day that no matter what he would reintroduce himself as the new Prompto.

* * *

It was a bright, warm morning. A beautiful day by all accounts. His new uniform was hung pressed and ready in his closet, his shoes waiting by the front door. Prompto stood in front of the mirror, his camera in hand. He snapped a photo, his last for the collage. For once, he felt satisfied with what he saw reflected at him in the mirror. Gone was the shy, heavy kid from elementary school. In his place stood a lean, confident young man who at one time Prompto would never have believed to be himself.

After eagerly donning his uniform he rushed out the door to the train station. Their class would be larger this year, but he knew he'd be able to spot Noctia. It was hard not to. Every year when they were kids the first day of school was always filled with people ogling the princess and eagerly trying to discern who had been placed in her class. Prompto supposed it would be hard on Noctia, as far as he had come in overcoming his timidity he couldn't imagine being the center of attention for the whole damn school. Well, just another job as a friend was to be a distraction against the tough things life threw at her. He was more than certain he could do that.

As predicted, upon arriving on campus everyone was buzzing about Princess Noctia and how much they wanted to meet her and how cool it was to be going to school with royalty. People were more interested in trying to discern the princess's class schedule than their own.

Prompto rolled up his sleeves, made sure his tie and wristband were properly in place, and headed for the courtyard. He saw Noctia walking along the path towards Building A. She'd changed. Tomboy would still be accurate, but she'd filled out, grown more feminine. Her hair was still cropped short, but was less unruly and styled into spikes that framed her face. Her blue eyes seemed larger, her lips also. Gone were the black t-shirts and pants she'd worn in elementary school, now she donned her school uniform, and it was the first time Prompto had ever seen her in a skirt. She was beautiful he couldn't help thinking.

In a way, when Prompto thought of Noctia, he'd always pictured that first bumbled meeting behind the elementary school and her image didn't change too much in his head, even when he saw her on TV. He had known she'd look different, but he'd assumed the level of nerves he felt would be similar to when he was a kid, trying to make friends with another kid. But he was older, almost an adult, and she was too. The dynamic had changed, and he stopped to think nervously how a guy could possibly approach a girl without it seeming too weird.

He pinched himself, hard, stopping his thoughts in their tracks. _You'd know it would be intimidating. You've prepared for this. Luna is counting on you. And you've worked towards this moment for years. No thinking! Go for it!_

Prompto ran up behind Noctia and playfully clapped her on the back. Her head snapped up in surprise, eyes wide, clearly not expecting to be touched in such a familiar way. "Hey there, Noctia!" Prompto said, smile plastered onto his face, "I'm Prompto. Nice to meet you."

She stared at him, looking him up and down. Prompto could see the recognition light her eyes, and for a moment was worried what reaction he would receive, before her face melted into a warm smile. "Don't I know you?" she asked. Her tone was almost teasing.

Prompto laughed and nervously rubbed the back of his head. He was still trying to sort out a response before Noctia's hand clapped his back in return for earlier, her eyes playful. It seemed so familiar, and when they fell into step together it felt so natural. The nerves melted away and he immediately knew, somehow, that she would be important to him.

* * *

"I hear you've made a new friend," Ignis said from Noctia's kitchen. The skillet sizzled on the stove and the scent of the stir-fry filling the kitchen made the new apartment feel a bit homier despite the boxes still piled around the living room.

"Yeah, he's cool," Noctia said distantly, eyes on her homework at the dining table. She had a bad habit of 'forgetting' to do her homework and it had become one of Ignis's new responsibilities when visiting through the week to make her sit down and do it. She never complained, but she glanced longingly at her game console between math equations.

"Hmm," Ignis murmured, "And what is his name?"

"Prompto."

"Hmm."

Noctia looked up, irritation flitting across her face as she stared at Ignis's back. "What is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"The little sounds you're making."

Ignis flipped the contents of the skillet before setting it on a separate burner to cool. "I'm only curious of your new friend. I'm glad to hear you're talking with your classmates, but I'm curious as to why this classmate caught your interest."

Noctia was quiet for a moment, she seemed to hear a double meaning in his words, but wasn't entirely sure if she was reading too much into his curiosity. "He's the only one who doesn't call me princess. And he's nice."

Ignis's lips twitched upward in hidden amusement, "Nice?"

"Yeah. Though he's kind of a dork."

"Ah."

"What?"

"That's where the commonality lies," Ignis said.

"Shut up."

Noctia pushed her homework aside as Ignis laid out plates and set the stir fry on a cozy at the center of the table. Noctia eagerly scooped some of the food onto her plate, but was obviously favoring the meat rather than the vegetables. Ignis used his own fork to scoop some peppers onto her plate despite the unhappy look she gave.

"Noct," Ignis said hesitantly, "I hope you're being careful. Princess or not, you're fifteen years old. Becoming friends with a fifteen-year-old boy. It goes without saying, I think, that students around your school are likely to talk."

Noctia froze mid-chew, her eyebrows furrowing, "It's not like that."

"Whether its him or another boy you happen to meet," and Ignis cleared his throat uncomfortably, "just be aware of your position, and make sure you're taking precautions."

Maybe the words sounded innocent enough, but Noctia could tell from how uncomfortable Ignis looked and how he kept his eyes trained on his food that his meaning wasn't entirely innocent. And she felt about as awkward as he looked now.

"Okay," Noctia said quietly, "I'm going to eat now, and if you promise to never give me 'the talk' then I promise I'll never give you a reason to."

"Deal," he said a little too eagerly.

They ate in silence for a few moments before Noctia glanced towards Ignis with a small smile, "Were you seriously trying to give me the talk?"

"Eat your food," he said forcefully, blushing.

Noctia laughed.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Comments welcome!


	3. Falling Deeper

"I need a break," Noctia huffed, hands on her knees and breathing heavily, her sword having fallen to the ground. Gladio stood over her, his own sword on his shoulder and hardly having broken a sweat.

"Not a chance, runt," he said, "not until you get your footing right."

Noctia glared, sometimes she could get really tired of Gladio and how hard he seemed to push her. And that stupid little nickname that he and his dad used for her got on her nerves. And he knew it, too.

"It's not like I can keep up like this," she grunted, "I'm not getting it anyway. I don't move that fast."

"Your speed isn't your problem; you keep pivoting your waist instead of turning on your feet. Now come on, again," said Gladio. He wasn't going to let her leave today until she cut the bad habit.

Noctia picked up her sword and pushed her sweaty bangs out of her eyes. She took a deep breath and on the exhale made the first move forward. Gladio swung his sword in a horizontal arch to keep her at a distance, but she dodged left and rolled past him. She moved to blindside him, but couldn't get the momentum right, her feet staying planted a few beats too long, and it slowed her down enough that Gladio turned and parried her strike, knocking her back onto her ass. They'd been at this for hours and Noctia was close to screaming.

"Argh!" she groaned in frustration, reaching behind her to rub at her bruised tailbone.

Gladio was frustrated too, staring up at the sky and sighing dramatically.

"I'm not going to get this today," Noctia said, irritated. Like he had any right to act fed up, she was the one being drilled until she was bruised and battered.

"Again," Gladio said.

Noctia forced herself to her feet and trying to get the upper hand for once didn't pause and she rushed forward, not even bothering with the blindside maneuver, just trying to once land a hit. It would make her feel better. She aimed and struck solidly towards his torso which he easily blocked, but she pulled her sword back and dropped on her heels, slashing towards his ankles. He dodged back, his practice weapon swinging down and knocking her sword arm. She was unable to push herself back onto her feet quick enough before Gladio kicked her back down, lightly but enough to wound her pride more than the new bruise on her forearm hurt her.

"Damn it!" Noctia stood and threw her practice sword against the wall where it hit with a loud clatter and Noctia hoped it splintered the wood. She sat down on the side of the mats and glared at the wall.

There were a few beats of silence before Gladio heaved a sigh and sat down next to her. She refused to look at him, whether out of petulance or shame it was hard to tell, she was too frazzled to sort through it all.

Gladio patted her back, "That was a smart move, going for the ankles. It's tricky; if you can't land the strike then you give your opponent the upper hand, good only as a surprise attack. But you almost had me."

Noctia could only bark a sarcastic laugh.

"Want to tell me what's up with you?" Gladio said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you usually don't suck this bad."

Noctia elbowed him, which he dodged. Of course he did.

"You're distracted today and it's tripping you up," Gladio said, "the only time it takes you this long to nail a move is when you're thinking too hard on something. Doesn't put you in the best head space for sparring."

Noctia picked at the hem of her sweatpants, still refusing to meet his eyes. She couldn't talk about it, she didn't really know how to. Especially not with Gladio. Everything that was on her mind and starting to weigh down on her. Her father's failing health, the never ending reports that needed her attention yet never seemed in need of her input, the continuing stresses of trying to balance school, life, and responsibility. And at the center of it all, Ignis was pestering her to keep up with all of it as though there was no room for breaks or grievance.

Noctia frowned at the floor. She didn't want to say all of that, she didn't want to show how much stress she was being put under lately for fear of appearing weak. People had thought her weak her whole life. The council refusing to acknowledge a girl being the next heir, her injuries as a child affecting how people around the Citadel treated her, and the disappointment she could practically feel radiating from Ignis when she needed a break and skipped her homework to go to the arcade with Prompto. She tried, all her life she tried to be a good example of royalty, but she fell short to the council. She tried to fit in at school, but her peers put her on a pedestal. There hadn't been a place for her. Until Prompto.

He was the one friend she could just be herself around and not feel like she was coming up short or being kept at a distance. She valued that more than she could express to him, and it was probably because of him she hadn't collapsed into a full breakdown as of yet. If only she could just get Ignis to back off some and let her take a breath from all of this crap. Gladio too.

"I just want one day," Noctia said, an edge to her voice. "Just one day off. Where I don't need to worry about everything that's happening."

"Well you know, with how lazy you usually are I'm surprised every day isn't a break," said Gladio.

Noctia felt her cheeks grow hot. "It's not about that!" Noctia said forcefully, "I'm sick of the politics that I'm not good at. I'm sick of telling me my dad is counting on me, like I don't know he's dying. I want everyone to go one damn day without reminding me of what my future is. Like I could forget!"

Silence stretched between them. Noctia turned her face away, her eyes growing hot and for a moment she was afraid she would start to cry. Then, she felt Gladio's hand come to rub between her shoulders, comforting her in a way he hadn't before. He drove her to always do better; he was always a presence in her life that stood for protection and reliance. She knew their lives were tied together and that he was to be her support, but she always saw him as physical support, the shield that would defend her when she became queen. Maybe never anything more than that. But here he was, offering a hand when she needed it and she let herself be pulled into his side, his presence suddenly feeling very warm and welcome to her.

"It's a lot on your plate, runt. Being a princess is a lot harder than what most kids deal with. But you've taken it better and shown more potential than anyone could expect from a teenage brat. Those pretentious assholes on the council tried to put you down and you fought back. You didn't accept being just a pretty face and you fought back. Even Niflheim tried to take you down and you stood right back up. Literally.

"Maybe it's more expected of you than is fair," Gladio said, "but you're making your way just fine. And you're not here enough to know it, but you're dad is proud of you. Hardly stops talking about you. Even the council doesn't dare to say anything negative."

Noctia turned watery eyes up to meet Gladio's before ducking her head again. She turned her face into his chest. It wasn't hiding the fact that she had tears beginning to spill down her cheeks, but it was less embarrassing than him seeing them.

He squeezed her shoulder, "We'll skip practice tomorrow. I'll tell Ignis this weekend is for he and I to work on his sword work for once, and you can chill with Blondie for a few days."

Noctia huffed, "Like Ignis would ever agree to that."

"A lot of people underestimate you, but don't go underestimating Specs, too. He cares about you a lot."

She knew that too. Even if it was hard to see sometimes, she knew he took care of her more than just out of duty. They'd known each other long enough for her to see it.

* * *

"Noct, stop! We're not supposed to be down here!"

"Don't worry, Iggy. I've done this before!"

Ignis followed Noctia through the dark hallway, cringing and wringing his hands as the girl padded her way over the linoleum and through the double doors at the end. The room was pitch black, but Noctia walked with a confidence that made Ignis suspicious of how many times she _had_ done this.

"We're going to get in trouble," Ignis tried to use his warning voice, but it hardly ever had an effect on someone as precocious as her.

Noctia reached up, balancing on her little toes, and made a small jump to reach the light switch. Both children winced as white light momentarily blinded them before Noctia was turning wide, eager eyes to the empty kitchen. Everything was cleaned and shelved neatly which only served to make Ignis more nervous of touching anything. Surely anyone who kept their work space this orderly would notice anything out of place the following morning. He was half a second from picking Noctia up and making an escape out the door and to the elevators as fast as possible. Though before he had the chance he watched as a little black head flitted around him and disappeared around one of the stoves.

"Noct!" Ignis followed after her, his bare feet slapping noisily on the floor as he caught up to her in front of a large open pantry door.

Noctia stood inside pointing up to one of the higher shelves grinning victoriously at Ignis. "See!" she said, "I told you this is where they hid the extra cookies."

"Why do they keep them in a pantry if they bake them here?" Ignis wondered aloud.

"Because I kept finding them," Noctia said with childlike nonchalance.

Noctia gripped the first shelf and made to hoist herself up, but before she could get her feet more than a few inches off the ground Ignis grabbed her around the waist and deposited her back on the ground, ignoring the annoyed fidgeting of the smaller child. "That means they don't want you to have them, Noct!" he sighed, exasperated.

"They won't know it was me! They didn't even see me!" Noctia tried to reason.

"Oh, they'll definitely know it was you," said Ignis.

"C'mon, Iggy! Just one and then I'll go back to bed, I promise!" Noctia whined.

Ignis sighed, wishing they'd stayed upstairs in bed to begin with. He'd woken to the sound of scuffling around Noctia's bedroom, the storybook he'd been reading to her lying open in his lap where it had landed when he dozed off on Noctia's bed. He'd remembered her head tucked in the cook of his arm, sound asleep, but after waking he'd seen her silhouette as she made her way towards the bedroom door on what she probably thought were sneaky feet.

He'd surprised her by sitting up on the bed, 'Where are you going?' Her big eyes whipped around as his voice startled her before she'd run out the door. 'Getting treasure!' she'd whisper-shouted. Ignis promised himself that this was the last time he was ever reading her pirate stories.

Now he was sneaking into the lower levels of the Citadel, trying to convince his little, unruly charge to go back to bed, knowing full well this wasn't a place they were allowed to be, especially to sneak sweets. He rubbed at his eyes in such a manner that made him look like a tiny adult; it was a habit he'd picked up since meeting Noctia. He'd been teased about it many times by his uncle and the King's shield. 'You and me both, little man,' the shield had said, 'that girl is a little hurricane.'

"His Majesty will be angry with me if he finds out I gave you cookies when you're supposed to be in bed," Ignis said.

Noctia pouted, her lower lip jutting out, "But I'm hungry!"

"If you're hungry then I'll get you something else, but not cookies."

Without giving her a chance to whine or stomp her foot, Ignis turned in the pantry and started pulling herbs and spices from the shelves behind him. He walked out of the pantry and climbed onto the counters, rummaging through various cupboards until he found an old coffee mug and a spoon hidden away in a cabinet filled with silverware and glassware for the kitchen staff. As he climbed down from the counter he saw Noctia's head poking out of the pantry, clearly disappointed at not receiving her cookie, but incredibly curious as she watched Ignis explore the kitchen.

Ignis walked to the large industrial refrigerator and fished out eggs, milk, and cheese, converging everything on the counter as he began to mix the ingredients into the mug. He looked down to his side, little fingers clutching the counter and eyes peering over the lip as they studiously watched Ignis mix everything together into the mug, watching the mug as though it was holding a surprise for her. Now all Ignis needed was a microwave, which he found tucked away on the other side of the kitchen. Ignis heated the mug and washed the spoon, and when the microwave beeped he carefully wrapped the cup in a dishtowel and placed the scrambled eggs treat into Noctia's hands.

She stared at the mug in wonder, leaning in to smell the cheesy eggs as Ignis placed the cleaned spoon into her hand. Noctia scooped a spoonful and took a bite.

"Mmm!" Noctia hummed, and when the spoon left her mouth, her cheeks puffed with a mouthful of eggs, a smile split her face, her eyes closing in happiness as she eagerly dug into her snack. Ignis watched as her cheeks flushed and she gleefully ate his homemade snack; he huffed a laugh as she seemed unaware of the little bounce in her feet.

"I can make other things too if you like that so much," Ignis said.

Noctia nodded, her head bobbing up and down and she hummed around her food again, her mouth too full to speak. Ignis rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. Ignis had been complimented on many things, his sharp mind, his capabilities, even how quickly he was picking up his fighting skills while sparring, but seeing this little kid who more often than not wanted to make him tear his hair out smile at the simple recipe he had made for her made Ignis feel a warmth in his chest. He wanted to see that smile again, and he was sure- he'd probably be able to come up with a _few_ recipes.

"Hey, I better not find anyone stealing out of my kitchen again," a gruff, irritated voice sounded from outside the kitchen accompanied by heavy footsteps. "You know what His Majesty will say, Princess!" the voice of the cook said, all too knowing.

"Uh oh," both children said in unison.

* * *

Ignis quietly opened the door to Noctia's apartment, taking off his shoes and setting them aside before stepping up into the main living area. The lights in the living room and kitchen were on, illuminating the outdoor balcony where Noctia stood, gazing at the city lights. Ignis knew she enjoyed looking at the view, he'd often find her in the courtyard between the two Citadel towers when she still lived there, looking out at the skyline.

He made his way into the kitchen, pulling two mugs out of the cupboards. He mulled over the words he'd shared with Gladio in his head as he sprayed the mugs with oil and mixed the baking ingredients in each.

'Noct's been slacking off lately,' Gladio had said, meeting him outside one of the sparring rooms used for training glaive recruits.

'Was she with you?' he'd asked.

'Earlier, yeah.'

Ignis placed the mugs into the microwave.

'I never know what goes on in that head of hers,' Ignis said.

'That's a lie if I've ever heard one,' but there was no accusation in his voice.

'I sometimes wonder if she even understands her position.'

'Give her a little more credit than that.'

Ignis pulled the mugs out of the microwave, the microwavable cookies baked over the rim of the mugs and steaming as he set two spoons into the cups. He walked to the sliding door, balancing the cups carefully and pulling the door open so he could step outside. There was a warm breeze and the smell of the irises in bloom this time of year carried in the air. Noctia turned to see him, but before she could come up with any words she was handed the mug full of gooey cookie and she couldn't help but smile.

Noctia and Ignis both leaned against the balcony and enjoyed the snacks as the sounds in the city drifted up from below. The rest of the evening was spent with the reports locked away in a kitchen drawer while Ignis cooked curry over rice for the two of them.

* * *

"Yes! Woohoo! New high score!" Prompto yelled, stopping to do a victory dance while Noctia stared unbelieving at the latest arcade game they'd been working on the past week, _Behemoth Hunters II_ , before she clapped her hands to her head.

"No way!" she said, "You only beat mine by like a hundred points. I'm entitled to a do-over."

"No sore losers, Noct," Prompto said, "bow to your new Master Hunter!"

"Like gloating much?" Noctia threw a handful of popcorn they'd gotten from one of the outside food stands in his face, laughing when he was able to catch one in his mouth and munch on it like it was a reward for conquering the impossibly hard game.

"I think this just goes to show that I have superior aim," he said, twirling the plastic laser gun in his hand. He tossed it into the air, catching it in the opposite hand without losing momentum and kept swinging the gun around his fingers, switching hands with ease and Noctia didn't miss the impressed stares from the other patrons around the arcade. "It took me a week to get that down," he said proudly before he pretended to holster it in a cowboy stance.

"C'mon showoff, let's go get pizza," Noctia said, patting his shoulder.

Prompto laid the laser gun down by the machine, punched in his initials into the leader board, and followed Noctia out into the street.

"You know, you are getting better with the shooting. Have you been going to the range more?" Noctia asked.

"Nah, games are way different. The weight distribution is way, way off and you don't need to worry about kickback or lining the sight. The games are just easier," Prompto said, shrugging as they made their way through the beginnings of the evening crowd.

Noctia was quiet for a moment before continuing hesitantly, "Have you given anymore thought to trying out to be a glaive?"

Prompto had mentioned it before, at school between one of their classes. Their senior year would be ending before they knew it, senioritis making the time pass much too quickly. Noctia had never needed to give much thought to plans after high school, it was a given that she would be expected to devote more of her time to work at the Citadel and start formal lessons in policy and lawmaking. College wasn't really in the cards for her. But she'd assumed that's where Prompto was headed.

Until one day when their homeroom teacher was giving a lecture on how to apply for colleges, most of the students in the class taking notes and eagerly following the exercises, but Prompto had just dozed through the lecture.

'I don't know,' he'd said when Noctia had asked about it after, 'there's nothing I'd really want to go to school for. I mean, yeah, there's my photography, but that would take time to start up and build a reputation for. And I need to start earning something soon to move out of my parents' house. So... my dad recommended the Kingsglaive since he last saw me at the range.'

'Your _dad_ told you to join the Kingsglaive?' Noctia had said, 'Prom, you're good with a gun, but the Kingsglaive isn't exactly safe, and it isn't exactly a side job, either. The only people I've met who try to join are immigrants; Lucians hardly ever take that risk.'

Prompto's jaw had tightened minutely before relaxing again and he rubbed the back of his head, 'Yeah, I'm not crazy into the idea either, just keeping my options open.'

Since then it had been weighing on Noctia's mind. She couldn't deny that she was worried, that she found it incredibly odd that a father who was hardly ever around would recommend being a glaive to his only son. Noctia almost wanted to press the matter and ask, but the way Prompto always avoided the subject of his parents led her to believe that it would probably create a situation rather than convey how concerned she was.

"No, I told my dad it wasn't something I was interested in," Prompto said, "Though I don't know how he'll react; I just called him and left a message when he didn't pick up. It's fine, though. I could probably start working at the arcade or something, and then I'd have way more time to devote to what's important in life: junk food and games."

"You're such a dork," said Noctia.

They walked into their favorite pizza shop, the one they'd been coming to for years after their stints to the arcade. The place was small with only a handful of tables and seats, but the greasy extra-cheese meat lovers pizza they always ordered was by far the best they'd found in the city.

"You know, I was thinking," Noctia said as she munched on her slice, "that maybe the Crownsguard would be something you could look into."

Prompto gagged a little on his pizza and had to take a few gulps of water before his breathing was cut off completely, "What? You mean like protecting the king?"

"Not my dad. Me actually," Noctia took another large bite of her pizza, purposefully ignoring his incredulous expression and raising an eyebrow when his jaw dropped. "It's something you only agree to a few years at a time. It's not permanent since you wouldn't be drawing directly from the crystal's power; you'd be channeling it through me. You could work on your photography and build that reputation, we'd see each other when I need to be at the Citadel more often, and I think you'd be good at it."

"Good at it? That's a huge responsibility! Haven't Gladio and Ignis trained their whole lives to be in the Crownsguard?"

"Yeah, technically. But they're my shield and adviser, those positions are permanent. Other members of the Crownsguard need to wait until they're eighteen before they can start training. So, technically you can't apply for a few months anyway."

Prompto paused and he looked down to his right hand sitting on the table. The beaten and fraying was all he seemed to see and he sighed deeply. He wasn't so sure that if he tried to apply for a position in the Citadel that he would be able to hide his secret easily. He'd managed so far, and maybe he was over thinking the risks, but better safe than sorry. He distractedly started fiddling with a stray thread that was sticking out of the band; he couldn't pull this all off, could he? He held a lot of confidence in his marksman skills, it was one of the few practical things Prompto believed he was good at, but suddenly the idea of Noctia's life potentially being in his hands made his stomach flip in a bad way.

Noctia's hand moved over his and wrapped around his banded wrist. Prompto flinched, but didn't move to withdraw his hand. "You'd do great," she said, "You willing to give it a shot?"

Prompto's heart skipped a beat. Normally when they touched it was a pat on the shoulder or a playful nudge. Maybe when playing video games they would sit shoulder to shoulder, but this felt different. Perhaps it was just the feeling of having a feminine hand on his, her thumb stroking over the back of his hand, but... no, that must be it.

"I mean... yeah," Prompto said, and after a beat of silence, "Yeah, I'll do it." He spoke with a bit more confidence than he felt, but his resolve hardened when he saw the relieved look in Noctia's eyes.

"Good," Noctia smiled back and moved her hand from his wrist to grip his hand. Prompto's heart skipped a beat. Normally when they touched it was a pat on the shoulder or a playful nudge. Maybe when playing video games they would sit shoulder to shoulder, but this felt different. Perhaps it was just the novelty of the feeling of having a feminine hand on his, her thumb stroking over the back of his hand, but... no, that must be it. They were friends. That was all. But sometimes it was hard not to be blown away by how lucky he was that a pretty girl as cool as Noct was became his friend at all. Just friends.

* * *

Prompto stood next to Gladio, his stance a bit more stiff than normal. His first day of Crownsguard training had been shorter than he expected, but still long enough to have his nerves on edge from the anxiety of the whole thing. His muscles were aching, his nerves from surviving his first day making him feel sick to his stomach, and he was ready to shower and head home already. But Gladio was speaking with Cor the Immortal, the man who oversaw his training today, 'to see what he was made of.' He stood there, more patient in appearance than in truth, trying not to seem impolite. But now they were discussing the new glaive recruits and Prompto begrudged the fact that he wasn't dismissed before the subject even came up.

He glanced to the side and saw Noctia standing near the doorway, leaning against the jam. She motioned with her hand for him to come towards her, but with a jerk of his head indicated the two men next to him still lost in their conversation, though by Gladio's tone it seemed more out of respect than actual interest for him too. Noctia approached, tiptoeing exaggeratedly, until she was next to the them, all the while keeping her hands behind her back.

Stepping between Prompto and Gladio, she looked up at the latter, lifting her eyebrows and gesturing towards the doorway. He gave a brief nod before turning his attention back to Cor, shifting his body so his back was facing Prompto, quietly assisting their escape. If the commander noticed he deliberately kept his eyes averted.

Noctia grabbed Prompto by the wrist and silently lead him out of the room. The lights were off and the hallway was dimmed aside from the pale light that filtered in from the training room. The atmosphere seemed both warmer as well as far too intimate to be standing alone in with Noctia which caused his nerves to heighten again, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. He was struck once again how there were plenty of times in the past when he and Noctia sat alone in her bedroom, drunkenly yelling at a TV screen while playing Assassin's Creed and he felt comfortable, like he could be completely relaxed around her. Not going crazy with nerves. But there was a different atmosphere here that made his stomach do back flips, a closeness being felt in the narrow hallway that felt more intimate than video games had, even in a dark room.

Noctia moved to stand directly in front of him, bringing his attention back to the fact that her hands were still behind her back, though her demeanor seemed to Prompto as though she didn't share the same awareness of intimacy. A conspirator's grin lit her face and she almost seemed to be vibrating with excitement. "Okay," she said, "I got you a little something. To celebrate you becoming a Crownsguard."

"I'm not one yet, you know," Prompto said, and he forced a laugh to mask his nerves, "I have to last a day without getting my ass kicked first.'

"Then your first day of progress, despite the ass kicking," she slowly took her hands from behind her back and held out a small cardboard box.

At first, Prompto stared at it in confusion before realizing that it was probably impolite to sit and stare instead of just taking the damned thing. He gently took the box from her hands and looked at it for a minute, almost not able to comprehend that she'd gotten him a gift, something other than a new game or energy drinks from the convenience store for his morning runs. Though when he met her eyes and saw the excitement in them, the anticipation for him to open the lid, he couldn't help but match the infectious smile. "I hope it's a badge that says 'Prompto: Master Hunter' on it," he said. She rolled her eyes before they fixed themselves on the box, leaving no more room for stalling.

Prompto tried to keep his breath as silent as possible, trying to hide the fact that this moment was causing his heart to beat a little too fast and that hyperventilating was a possibility. He carefully lifted the lid and his breath was all but strangled in his throat. Inside the case was a black leather wristband, higher quality than the beaten cotton one he wore now, with the Lucis Crownsguard insignia emblazoned on it. Looking closer, Prompto realized there was more, the words 'Prompto Argentum' in slightly larger print around the insignia.

He took the wristband from its case and ran his thumb over the leather, his mind suddenly blank, not knowing how to respond. He started to turn the band around in his hand before something on the reverse side caught his eye. He peered more closely at it. It was another engraving. 'Don't let the bastards grind you down,' was engraved in bold script on the inside of the wristband, the section would be touching against the bar code on his wrist. His brows crinkled and his lips thinned, becoming very still as he stared intently at the words.

He was only half aware as Noctia started fidgeting in front of him, hand darting up to fiddle with a strand of hair in her bangs. "I don't know," she mumbled, "I thought with all the punk stuff you're into it was a good idea, but if it's too-"

"Don't," Prompto interrupted her, "I love it." His voice seemed choked and he peered up at her under his eyelashes, not trusting to look at her fully in case his eyes grew wet. His cheeks were hot and he had to clench his teeth to keep his breath from stuttering, but he wanted to give Noctia the thank you he thought she deserved, and that meant a smile and no tears.

At his honest tone, Noctia smiled and the worry in her eyes faded to relief as she held her hand out to him expectantly. At first Prompto thought she was asking for the band before realization clicked that she was asking for his right hand. His shoulders tensed. His parents had touched his wrist and the tattoo on it when he was young, but always with a manner of quick reluctance, as though it was a part of him they wanted to acknowledge for as little a time as possible, before he got his first wrist band to cover it up. Now he felt an uncontrollable hesitation and reluctance for someone who mattered as much to him as Noctia to see the mark he consistently kept covered, and he couldn't help standing frozen on the spot. He trusted Noctia, more than anyone else, but this was asking a little too much.

When Prompto didn't move Noctia moved to take his wrist herself and Prompto jerked it from her reach. "Prompto?" she said, eyebrows quirking.

He couldn't meet her eyes. He felt an unbelievable shame in refusing, but couldn't bring himself to let her see the brand on his hand. It was a reflex that he had no control over. He'd lived for so long hiding it; to him there was no choice.

"You know," Noctia said quietly, "you're always wearing that thing." She gestured with her eyes to the cotton sweat band around his wrist. Prompto still refused to look at her.

Noctia fought to keep her voice even. "I never told you about the scar on my back, did I?" she continued, "From when I was attacked as a kid. You remember seeing it on the news? I couldn't walk. Hardly felt anything below my mid-back. When I did start to get better, there was a lot of pain from the healing nerves. It was... really hard."

Prompto finally turned his eyes up, but it was Noctia's turn to look away.

"Even after it all healed it left a pretty nasty scar. It goes across my whole back. It's ugly, and still causes some pain from time to time. Hard to get out of a spinal injury without some lasting effects. And it always reminds me of how badly some people wanted me dead, and how even at home some people still treat me like glass. So, we both have something we're hiding; to not be defined by something ugly."

Noctia held out her hand again, and closed her eyes.

Prompto's breath caught in his throat and he felt like his body was vibrating with nerves. He took a deep breath and tampering down the aggressive butterflies in his stomach he dutifully placed his hand in hers.

Her grip was more firm than usual, but gentle. Keeping her eyes closed she carefully removed the cotton from around his wrist and pocketed it before extending her hand again, Prompto placing the leather in her palm. It took her longer to feel around for the clasps and blindly set the wristband, but she kept her eyes closed. It occurred to Prompto that had this been any other person touching him right then, any other situation, he probably would have either come up with an evasive one-liner or snatched his hand away entirely. With Noctia, he held his breath.

The leather was stiff, but soft on his skin. For an instant it felt almost as though the words carved into the inside of the bracelet were etching themselves into his skin and he imagined that they were burning away the bar code and leaving a far better brand in his flesh.

Noctia enclosed his wrist in both of her hands and finally opened her eyes, her gaze satisfied. "There," she said, "it's better than the old one. And this one you can wear even when you're not in uniform."

Prompto could feel the air thicken and the hair on the back of his neck stand up again. He couldn't decide whether it was really the atmosphere or all in his head. He looked up and realized, whether with pleasant or nervous surprise he didn't know, that Noctia's smile had tensed, her eyes darting across his face. She seemed to freeze once she met his eyes, and a blush rose in her cheeks. He had rarely seen her blush like that.

' _Fuck it_ ,' screamed a voice in his head. The part of him that had dreamed of this kind of opportunity tried to remind him that maybe he should ask for permission. Instead, the part of him that still echoed in his head told him that if he let this opportunity slip by that another would never come around, leading to a panicked fluttering in his chest and almost without control he quickly wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck and brought his lips to hers.

He felt Noctia stiffen in surprise, or at least he hoped that's all it was and that a fist wasn't about to connect with his nose. But after only a moment she relaxed and moved her lips against his, an audible sigh escaping her. Prompto let his eyes close and wrapped his free hand gently around her waist as her hands rested lightly on his chest. The kiss was short and sweet, soft and hot, instinctual and new, living up to every fantasy he had had in his imagination.

When they broke apart, Prompto let out a laugh, not quite succeeding in keeping the nervous hitch out of his breath, "I've wanted to do that for a while now."

"Really?" Noctia said, "Funny, I was actually planning on kissing you. You beat me to it."

"Well, I beat you at everything. I always seem to get the high scores."

He felt a gentle, half-heartened swat on the back of his head, "Uh, who won us the round of King's Knight the other night?"

Both of them relaxed completely, settling into their loose embrace, pretending that it was the most natural thing in the world.

* * *

Here we are, reviews are appreciated! Thanks for reading!


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